


Hard Work

by pseudocitrus



Series: otsukaresama AU [1]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Mild Blood, Oneshot, Shironeki | White-haired Kaneki, Smut, Touken, Touken Smut Week, Touken Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 22:05:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3356954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudocitrus/pseuds/pseudocitrus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaneki Ken has returned to Anteiku, but you wouldn’t know it from Touka.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard Work

**Author's Note:**

> done for three anon prompts from tumblr:  
> 
> 
>   * prompt: kaneki does return to anteiku but touka is so mad at him that she doesn't talk to him for weeks while kaneki has been trying everything to get touka to talk to him and then one day when everyone else is gone and touka and kaneki are left alone to close up the shop, he continues to beg her to talk to him until she finally explodes in anger and starts shouting at him but all kaneki can think about is how relieved he is that she is talking to him and he kisses her which escalates to sex
>   * Could you please write something about Kaneki being veeeery needy? I can't wait for touken smut omfg I'm going to hell
>   * You're having trouble for ideas for TSW right? Umm... How about for the "chocolate" prompt, have something to do with mouth feeding chocolates? Just an idea ^^;
> 

> 
> AU where Kaneki returns to working at Anteiku after Tokyo Ghoul chapter 90.
> 
> [“thanks for your hard work”](http://www.japanintercultural.com/en/news/default.aspx?newsID=276) is my english translation of the phrase "otsukaresama deshita."
> 
> happy valentine's day! ♥

Kaneki Ken has returned to Anteiku, but you wouldn’t know it from Touka.

“Good morning,” Kaneki says at the start of each shift, and Touka says nothing, just cleans up the steamers as usual.

“Thanks for your hard work today,” Kaneki says at the end of each shift, and Touka says nothing, just wipes off the counters as usual.

The next week, when Kaneki says this, she replies, “Thanks for your hard work,” and Kaneki’s heart leaps — until he realizes she’s talking to a startled Nishio.

“Uh, yeah,” Nishio replies, looking uneasy. “Thanks...to you too...?”

Touka’s sheer ability to not acknowledge Kaneki at all impresses the employees and even some of their more perceptive regulars. Kaneki had come because of her, maybe even _for_ her, but she doesn’t talk to him. She doesn’t look at him. She barely slows down when he’s in her way, and one day, out of a sort of panic, he goes to pains to step in front of her half a dozen times. Her shoulder crashes into a fridge, but she doesn’t even wince.

Customers double-take over Kaneki’s white hair and dark nails and everyone waits for Touka to do something about it, but she does not. Finally it’s Nishio that arrives one day, and with a plastic bag, and a sigh.

“Kimi says this stuff is all good quality,” he says, and upends the contents into a table in the back room: black hair dye, nail polish remover, white nail polish.

“That’s only if the remover doesn’t work,” he says as Kaneki eyes the nail polish. “So...so can you figure this out yourself, or what? I could...help you...I guess,” Nishio offers, sounding incredibly un-thrilled.

Kaneki looks at it all.

“I’m not changing,” he says quietly.

“Great idea!” Nishio says. “Do something to make yourself even more troublesome. That’ll definitely get her to recognize you exist.”

Kaneki stares at the floor.

“I know that sounds like I’m making fun of you,” Nishio says, sitting on the table, “but I’m serious. Being kind of irritating helped you out before, right? She went all the way to Aogiri to get you, after all.”

“She did,” Kaneki says quietly. He rolls a finger against his thumb, as if about to crack it, but stops short. Sighs.

“Do you know if she even uses that rabbit keychain I got her?” he asks.

Nishio’s eyes narrow in thought. “Rabbit key...? Wait, _you_ got her a keychain?”

“Have you seen it?” Kaneki asks hopefully.

But Nishio just coughs. “Sorry,” he says.

“You haven’t seen it?”

“Uh, no, just...sorry.”

He hesitates, then pats Kaneki’s shoulder, grimaces, and retreats.

:::

“One latte,” Kaneki announces dully, but no one responds. He looks around, and sees that Koma has retreated to a back room somewhere, and only Touka is left at the front. She’s calibrating thermometers. Kaneki swallows.

“Touka-chan?” he calls quietly. “One latte? Please?”

She starts polishing a steaming pitcher.

The customer at the front cups their hand around their mouth and calls, “Excuse me! One latte, please.”

“Coming right up,” Touka replies, and starts bringing out the milk.

“Th-thank you,” Kaneki mumbles, to her, and to the customer. “Sorry.”

“This is getting out of control,” Nishio mutters when the story gets to him. “Here, let me talk to her.”

The next time Touka vanishes into the back room, Nishio follows. Muffled shouts ensue, and shortly after, Kaneki hears footsteps behind him and whirls around.

It’s Nishio.

“Sorry,” he says, adjusting his glasses, which are for some reason slightly askew. “I mean, it’s not like we like each other that much anyway, but I gave it a shot.”

“Um…thanks.”

“Listen, though,” Nishio says. “It made me remember this one time Kimi got a little pissed off at me too. So, since I kind of owe you, I’ll tell you what you should do.”

“What?” Kaneki asks, without much hope.

“Well, first, just listen to everything she has to say, without talking.”

“She won’t even look at me,” Kaneki reminds him, but Nishio is waving his hand dismissively.

“That’s fine, it’s not as important as the second thing anyway, which is: chocolate.”

“Chocolate.”

“Yup.”

Kaneki stares. He realizes that Nishio is serious.

“Thanks,” Kaneki says, weakly, and Nishio nods.

“No problem. Hang in there.”

:::

The week passes.

And then another.

He’s never felt this level of nonexistence before, and every minute of silence unravels his heart, muscle by muscle — stretches it — desiccates it, makes it brittle. Inside his brain he hears, faintly, the reassurances of a child-like voice: _It’s okay, you just need to wait, wait until she’s finished with all her important work and then she’ll come back_ —

As if those words had ever been true.

“Good morning,” Kaneki tries, and Touka just walks past, and today something in his chest shakes and he turns and begs, “Touka-chan, _please._ ”

She sighs. Kaneki perks — but she’s only looking over their work schedule. He goes to check it as well, and she leaves before he even gets close.

They’re closing together — just them — in a couple days. No doubt this is what annoyed her, and, despite their circumstances, Kaneki feels a surge of hope.

“Thanks for your hard work today! I’m — I’m looking forward to later!” he calls after her. She doesn’t acknowledge him, of course.

That afternoon, the day’s last customer orders a drink. Kaneki recites the price, and the customer places the money in the tray, and then holds out their hand.

“Someone gave this to me to give to you,” they say, and Kaneki blinks, and holds his hand out. They drop it into his palm.

It’s a rabbit keychain.

It’s _the_ rabbit keychain.

His heart drops like a stone to the bottom of his ribcage.

He finishes the drink as fast as he can, and races into the back room, but all that’s left of her is her apron.

Outside, the streets to either side are empty.

:::

He’d always planned to come back. He really did.

He just wanted to make sure there would be something to come back to. He wanted to make sure everyone was _safe_.

In the darker parts of his mind, he’d accepted that to achieve his goals he might need to abandon his own life.

But, somehow, he’d never imagined that the ones he wanted so badly to protect would do the same.

:::

He calls in sick for the next two days. He spends a couple hours in a bookstore, and all the rest in his kitchen.

:::

He comes back the day he’s supposed to close up with Touka.

“Sorry I’m late,” he gasps, and of course she says nothing. He goes to the back room to retrieve his apron and stow a package in the fridge, and spends the whole rest of the work shift silently reciting what he plans to say, and observing her carefully. One by one, the other employees leave. When she goes to put away her apron in the back room, he waits. He’s there in the hallway when she exits.

“Touka-chan,” he calls, and she jumps, and it’s the first time that she’s reacted to anything he’s done, and he thinks, _I DO exist,_ and he almost rushes to hug her, but suppresses it, which is probably good, because she looks infuriated at him, or maybe at her own slip.

He hastily makes a deep bow, hoping to breach this little crack in her composure before she closes him out again. His arms are thrust out, holding the package that he hid in the fridge.

“I — I made this for you —“

It’s a little red box, with a bow, and her name written on a card on the top.

“I — know you’re angry at me — I know I’ve made a lot of stupid mistakes. I shouldn’t have left you behind. I just wanted...no, it doesn’t matter, I just — I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Please forgive me.”

He replenishes the breath in his lungs with a gasp. She isn’t saying anything, but she isn’t leaving either, which he considers a good sign. He lifts his head a little to peek up at her. Her eyes are on the box, but she makes no move to take it. He straightens; his hands falter, a little, but he keeps the box forward.

“Please talk to me, Touka-chan,” he whispers, and this part was unrehearsed, but it’s what he wants the most. His raw desire for her to say something, _anything_ to him, claws its way out, breaks his voice in half. “You don’t — you don’t need to forgive me — I understand you’re mad — but please — at least talk to me? Once in a while? It —“ He gulps. The last word is small. “Hurts.”

Still nothing. He rips the cover off the package, to show her the contents.

“I — I made this for you. It’s chocolate,” he explains, though she doesn’t ask. At that, she looks at him — she _looks_ at him — and though the look is a pure glare, a wave of relief rocks his body.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she demands. _“Chocolate?_ So now that you’ve decided that real people are worth more than your shitty dream of becoming some kind of tragic hero, you just want everyone to cozy back up to you, huh? And if they don’t, you’re going to feed them literal _poison_?

“Let me tell you something,” she continues in a snarl, stomping toward him. “Let me _remind_ you of something. You said you wouldn’t leave. You didn’t need to, I didn’t ask you to, but you _said_ it, and like some stupid idiot I actually _believed_ —“

She sucks in a breath.

“And then you left, and you said that you would visit, and you never did, not even once. Instead you dragged Hinami along into whatever dangerous shit you were up to, and m-meanwhile” — her voice cracks — “you never spared me — even a single _word_ —“

She stabs her finger into his chest, and he feels like it’s cracking beneath her nail.

“You’re a piece of _shit_ , Kaneki Ken-san,” she says, and though her voice is hard, it’s breaking too, becoming shards in her throat that she struggles to spit out, syllable by syllable. Her eyes are glassy, are turning red. “You think it hurts to have me ignore you for just a couple weeks? Try — six _months_ of waiting, only to l-learn at the end of it — that you a-aren’t even _happy_ —“

She runs out of breath again. She swipes at her eyes, and paces, and then whirls on him, glaring, and though he’s been getting steadily redder through her whole tirade, it is this last line, and this last look, that forces scarlet to the tips of his ears.

“Well?” she demands. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

“C-can I kiss you?” he stammers.

Whatever she was expecting, it wasn’t that. “Wh — _what_?”

To be honest, it wasn’t something he was expecting either. He flails. “S-sorry — no, I mean —“ He swallows. “Actually, yes, that’s what I mean.”

Touka stammers. “Wh-why would you — why do you even — _no_.“

Silence. They stare at each other, the air charged.

And then Touka whispers, “Yes.”

He rushes her — or maybe she rushes him — in any case, Touka gasps, from her back slammed suddenly against the wall, or Kaneki’s mouth and body against hers. Some version of himself from six months prior would have never done this, would have have never licked her throat and relished the shocked, heady moan that makes her skin tremble beneath his tongue; but he’s different now. Aware. _Back_. He turns his head, matching his mouth perfectly to hers, and though these months have made him sick of the taste of ghouls, Touka is different, she’s _delicious_. She sucks his tongue, and then bites his lip; her body trembles against his, and then grips, one knee bending to pull him closer.

It’s happening so fast — but dimly he realizes that this is what he’s wanted, really, to come back to — and this must be what she’s been waiting for. His lips suck up and down the lightning-quick pulse he can feel in her throat, and she makes a high and needy noise that makes him hard instantly. Her fingernails rake at his uniform and he starts to unbutton it.

“N-not here,” she gasps, so he pushes her against the wall, and brings his hands beneath her butt, and lifts her up. She yells in alarm and constricts her arms around his neck to keep her balance.

“I have you,” Kaneki reassures her, and then says, “The door,” because he’s carried her over to the storage room. She fishes in her pocket for the key to unlock it, and reaches behind her for the knob. Once it’s turned, he stumbles inside, and manages to sit her down on one of the boxes before continuing to shrug off his vest. She starts pulling and kicking and tugging her own clothing off as well.

They missed the light switch on the way in, and the only light in this room is coming from the hallway. But the door is heavy, and closing; the slice of light cuts across his bare shoulder and Touka’s left breast and then narrows to darkness as the door clicks shut. He reaches toward her, squeezing her breasts; she cuts off a moan and he wedges a thumb in the corner of her mouth to stop her, relishing, strangely, the clinch of her molars and the flick of her tongue.

Her hands reach for him too, blindly — he feels her fingers tip and curl against his chest, his abdomen. He sets his hands down on the surface of the box beneath her, allowing her to explore.

“Shit,” she mutters. “Where the hell did all this come from?”

“Where…did what…?”

Her hands flatten, palms smoothing up and down. Her nails scrape the dip and rise of his muscles, so lightly that goosebumps build up across his back.

“You’re…so… _hard_ ,” she coughs.

She’s silent after she says it — embarrassed. Kaneki can hear her hair shift as she looks away, can feel her withdraw her hands from him, can feel how much she wants to take her words back, and he kisses her brow.

“If it’s hard stuff you’re looking for, you’re not touching the right place,” he murmurs, and that does the trick; he chuckles as she regains herself enough to practically slap him.

“ _And_ you picked up a shitty sense of humor from somewhere,” she groans.

“No joke,” he agrees, and she groans again, but this time because his mouth is on her body, and navigating her quivering skin down, down, across her navel and her inner thigh. His lips cross, finally, to her sex, and purse at the apex of it, which makes her cry, and writhe, and yank him closer.

“M-more,” she says breathlessly, and, and to hear her almost _begging,_ after so long ignoring him, makes him dizzy — he stands, grabs her ass, drags her toward him. She reaches between them, fingers playing lightly on his cock, feeling the breadth of it before guiding it towards her slit. He pushes into her, filling her, slowly — as slowly as possible — given how his thoughts shatter deeper with every centimeter, with every breath, with every crease that he feels Touka’s digging nails leave on his skin. Once he’s all the way inside her, he stills, for just a moment — and then doesn’t stop moving again until all his desperate desire is spent, until all his apologies are made, until she cries out her pleasure, and forgiveness.

:::

Afterward, they search blindly for the keys, and, to their relief, find them. They reclaim their clothing from where they’ve been flung all around the room, and re-dress, squinting in the light. They stumble back into the break room, for water.

Touka clears her throat, which feels embarrassingly sore from…well. Making loud noises. That she is incredibly glad no one is around to hear.

Her eyes fall on the table, where Kaneki’s chocolates still are, and she snorts.

“I can’t believe you actually tried that,” she grumbles. “That sounds like something I would have expected from Nishiki, not you.”

Kaneki coughs. “Well…well, it’s not really chocolate.”

“It’s not? What is it, then?”

“I mean — it _is_ chocolate — but —” He hesitates. “Well, you know how we have that sugar? I looked up some recipes and I…tried to recreate it. With my own…I mean…we kind of, at the chapel, so I thought…it would probably be fine here too, right? But I can throw it away, if you’re really not interested.”

Is this really the person she was just in the store room with? That person whose stomach is so firm it’s basically a pile of rocks? Touka sighs.

“I guess I should try it,” she says, and Kaneki brightens. He lifts up a little piece of chocolate from the box, and Touka holds out her hand; but he just keeps holding it up, expectantly, and after a while she opens her mouth so he can push it in.

It’s — smooth — soft — chewy. It’s — sweet, like she remembers from the chapel. She feels her face warm a bit at the memory, and swallows it, and pretends not to notice Kaneki waiting, watching her face hopefully.

“It doesn’t taste like food at all,” she tells him. “So, it’s pretty good.”

“Thank goodness,” he says, and she opens her mouth, and he feeds her the rest of them, one by one. Then they start closing up the cafe.

“Kaneki,” Touka calls as she locks the door. “Thanks for…for your, um…hard work today.”

He smiles. “Thanks to you too.” He scuffs the ground a bit. “You…you know, Touka-chan, I think we’re closing together again tomorrow.”

“R-really?” Her stomach flips.

As it turns out, they aren’t. But Nishiki is easily convinced to switch shifts.

This time they leave the lights on. As her fingers rake his scalp, Touka notices several dark hairs on Kaneki’s head, and she takes care not to yank them.


End file.
